The Guardian
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchesters are civilians - average, everyday people going about their daily lives. They have a little brother, Adam, and two loving parents: John and Mary. But everything changes when Adam begins having nightmares about a man with yellow eyes. And Dean starts seeing a mysterious man with black wings. Something dark is coming, and the Winchesters aren't ready.
1. History is Altered

_The Guardian - 1_

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 **This is a new fic I am putting out there. I actually started writing this one quite a while ago... but anyway, here it goes. This is an AU if Sam and Dean never got into hunting and Adam was John and Mary's son.**

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"The Guardian Angel's Lament" – A Catholic Prayer

 _Thou hast_ sorrowed _the spirit that loved thee,_

 _And watched o'er thy footsteps for years:_

 _Thou hast made me at last sigh o'er_ thee _,_

 _In secret, in silence, and tears._

 _For my Father in_ Heaven _I loved thee,_

 _For His sake have I guarded thy ways._

 _Return, O return, I implore thee, Him to love, to serve, and to praise._

 _O'er thy pathway through life_ still _I hover._

Thee _to comfort, to solace, to cheer;_

 _With the love of a fond, saving brother,_

 _Through this desert of trial and fear._

 _Oh! When shall I clasp thee, how fondly_

 _And bear thee, all dangers no past,_

 _To the arms of God Who dies for thee_

 _To our home in the heavens at last!_

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 **History Is Altered**

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"Mommy, there's something in my closet," the soft voice whispered into his mother's ear. Mary Winchester kissed her son on the head before getting up from the bed. She ran a hand through her long, blond locks before going over to the boy's closet on the other side of the room. Opening the door, she looked inside, smiling a little as she heard a soft, fearful gasp from behind her. Mary looked back to see Dean holding the covers over his head, shaking a little bit.

"Look, Dean," she said, pulling the clothes aside to expose the back wall. "No monsters in here, see?" Slowly, he lowered the blankets and looked fearfully into the closet. When he saw nothing was inside, he visibly relaxed although his tight hold on his teddy bear didn't loosen. Mary closed the door and went back over to the bed. "Don't worry Dean," she said, mussing his hair. "There are no monsters in this house. I've made sure of it. And don't forget, the angels are watching over you. They'll always be there, even if you can't see them, and they'll protect you."

Dean laid back down, hugging his teddy bear close. Mary gave him another kiss before leaving the room. She walked down the hall to the nursery where her other son, Sam, slept. When she opened the door, she saw a masculine shape standing next to the bed. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned on the doorframe. "John?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Was he crying? I didn't hear…"

The figure half turned toward her and raised a finger to his lips. "Shh."

Mary raised her hands defensively. "Okay," she mumbled. "Kiss him goodnight for me." With that, she turned to head toward the bedroom she shared with John. Before she entered, however, she noticed the illuminated downstairs. Mary edged down the stairs cautiously. John rarely went up to spend time with the kids at night unless he was on his way to bed. And if John was on his way to bed, he never left the lights on. _Maybe he forgot,_ she reasoned, but when she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw a familiar form dozing in the recliner. Her heart sank and her blood ran cold.

"SAMMY!" she shouted, whipping around and sprinting up the stairs. Mary burst into Sam's room to see the stranger next to Sam's crib. His arm was extended over the boy, blood dripping from a wound in his hand. To Mary's sickening horror, she saw that his blood was landing right in her newborn son's mouth. The stranger looked straight at her, and that's when she saw his yellow eyes. Her breath hitched and she took a fearful step back. "You," she breathed.

She knew this demon—she'd dealt with him in the past, and she knew he was not someone to be messed with. "Leave my son alone!" she demanded, although dared not make another move toward him.

The yellow-eyed demon flashed a smile before reaching out toward her. Mary let out a scream as she was thrown against the wall. She felt a piercing, agonizing pain in her lower abdomen. Her body shook with fear as she felt herself being drug up the side of the wall, her feet dangling limply below her. She heard footsteps in the hall as someone came to her rescue. The person that appeared in the doorway was not the one she had been expecting—little Dean stood there, clutching tightly onto his teddy bear. When he saw Mary, his eyes widened. "MOMMY!"

Suddenly, everything went white. The pain in Mary's stomach dissolved, and she was filled with an overwhelming sense of ease. The whiteness was not blinding, nor was it painful on her eyes. It was a soothing type of white—a soft color that brought her inner peace. Then, she saw a vision before her—a man. He wore a suit with a blue tie and a tan trench coat. He walked toward her slowly, eyes bluer than the sea looking up at her beneath a mop of untidy black hair.

"Mary Winchester." He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice. The voice was not unpleasant but did have a serious tone to it. He gave her a small, almost guilty smile. "How are you feeling, Mary?"

She stared at him a moment before looking down at her belly where the pain had been. Her hands experimentally poked and prodded until she determined that she was alright. "I'm okay… Who are you? Where am I?"

The man straightened up a little bit. "I have been assigned to watch over you and your family, more specifically Dean," he explained. "Dean is… very important to us. He was not meant to walk into that room, and when he did, I had no choice but to intervene to keep him safe."

"You…?" Mary began, her head spinning. "Who are you? Who is 'us'? What is going on?"

He sighed. "Mary, if I tell you, you must promise me that you can never tell John, Dean, or Sam. Do you understand?"

She bit her lip before nodding. She had to know who he was and why he was watching her son.

"My name is Castiel. I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Mary faltered for a moment, her mouth falling open. "You're… what?"

"An angel," he repeated. "My siblings and I are watching over Dean—the destiny he has ahead of him is… important to us. His decisions, his future—all of it is of great interest to us."

"Why?"

He frowned a little, almost remorsefully. "That I cannot disclose. We are not meant to intervene like this, but your body was severely wounded by the demon. I had to take you somewhere safe so you and your son could properly heal."

"Dean? Sam?" she asked, her eyes widening. "They're here? Where are they?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, neither of them," he said, now looking at her quizzically. "You don't know?"

Now it was Mary's turn to be confused. "Know what?"

Castiel glanced at her lower abdomen before meeting her eyes again. "You're with child, Mary."

She froze. Subconsciously, her hand rested on her belly and she began to shake a little. She began to wonder what would have happened to her if Castiel had not saved her… if he hadn't come in at all. Not only she would have died, but her child too. She hadn't realized how indebted she was to this… angel until right then.

"You saved us," she whispered, making eye contact with him. "Thank you… Thank you so much."

Castiel nodded. "You are welcome. However, I'm afraid that I cannot intervene again unless Dean is truly in danger of dying. Everything that happens from now on, know that I am watching but powerless to help you or your family. I am not even supposed to be speaking with you now—it is forbidden for us to have contact with mortals. There will come a time when I will walk the earth again beside you and your family, but until then I must remain in the shadows."

Mary was still reeling from all the new information being given to her. She'd never encountered an angel before—in fact she had never even heard of hunters encountering them. But she believed. Looking at Castiel, she couldn't _not_ believe that he was real. "Okay, Castiel."

He smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. "Take care, Mary," he murmured before the vision dissolved in white light once more.

When she woke, she was back in Sam's nursery with Dean and John hovering over her worriedly. "Mary?!" John was shouting. The fear in his vice slayed her and she forced herself to sit up. The pain in her stomach was gone but her brain still felt ungodly fuzzy. "Oh, Mary! Thank God!" John breathed, hugging her to him closely. "Are you alright? We were so worried!"

She nodded weakly, hugging him back. "Yes… Yes, I'm okay. I just… I got kind of light-headed." She pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek before pulling away. Her eyes briefly landed on Dean but only saw relief in them. _Maybe Castiel altered his memories so he didn't see the demon_ , she thought. This soothed her, but then her guts turned to ice when she remembered the blood. She forced herself to get up and weakly make her way over to Sam's crib. Her baby was lying there peacefully, wide awake. His eyes met hers and he gave her a toothless smile. He reached up for her, cooing softly. Mary forced herself to smile and pick him up. There was no trace of the blood, but she knew what she saw. Castiel hadn't been in time to stop _that_ from happening. _Oh God,_ she prayed. _Protect my sons. Keep them safe from whatever those hellish monsters are planning. And if God is too busy… Castiel, please watch over us._

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A/N: I hope you enjoy this as much as I do writing it. This fic is going to be one of my more serious ones so be prepared for angst and death and pain.


	2. The Boys Are All Grown Up

_The Guardian - 2_

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I hope you guys are enjoying it thus far. :D

I don't own Supernatural.

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 **The Boys Are All Grown Up**

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Sam Winchester was the middle child and fell into the typical middle-child role of being looked over. He never complained—he knew that Dean needed more attention his senior year to make sure that he got all of his college stuff prepared. He knew that his parents often worried about Dean's college antics and whether or not he was "being safe" with his plethora of girlfriends. He knew that Adam, who was just a year younger than him often got more attention since he was the baby of the family. He knew all this and was mature about it. Even though he did feel left out at times, Sam did his best not to let it get to him. He had his special moments like his birthday, the school dances, his first prom, and his high school graduation.

The day of Sam's high school graduation—May 27, 2001—was Sam's day. It was his time to finally step forward and shine. Dean had graduated from Lawrence High School just four years early. A few more weeks and Dean would graduate from the University of Kansas and receive his degree in business. But that was a few weeks away. It was Sam's turn.

He waited outside the gymnasium, his stomach a bundle of nerves. Even though he was nervous, it was more anticipation than anything. It was that anxious excitement you feel when you're on a rollercoaster, climbing that first big hill. That was how Sam felt—that he was climbing that hill and was just a few feet from the top. The moment the gym doors opened, he'd make it over the top of that hill after eighteen years of climbing.

"Are you ready?" his best friend, Brady, asked. The boy stood beside him in the line, their last names both starting with W. Just because they were some of the last names to be called didn't mean anything—Sam had been named Valedictorian and he would get to give a speech to the entire graduating class.

Sam nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "I've waited for this my entire life," he confessed with a shy smile. "I'm more than ready."

The graduation coordinator, some teacher Sam didn't recognize, raised his hands for quiet. The sounds of the school band roared from within as the doors swung open. Sam balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. His nervous excitement grew until it was almost unbearable. But he couldn't keep the smile off his face.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _I made it._

Dean Winchester sat next to his father in the bleachers of the Lawrence High School gymnasium. Once he graduated, he never wanted to "set foot in this hellhole again" as he had eloquently put it the day of his graduation. However, there were few things that Dean wouldn't do for his little brothers. If making Sam happy meant coming to his graduation and watching him walk and receive his diploma, then Dean would be damned if he didn't do it.

"Can you believe little Sammy's graduating?" Dean asked his father with a smile.

John Winchester's lips twitched if a smile was lurking below the surface, but it didn't emerge. "Of course I can. Sam was the smart one—I never doubted he'd graduate… _You_ on the other hand…"

Dean scoffed. "And now I'm graduating from college in two weeks. Bet you didn't see that one coming!"

A smile appeared then. "No, I didn't… But I'm so glad you are."

Dean felt warm and fuzzy at his father's compliment. They were rare, which only made them more meaningful. He glanced over at Adam who was sitting on the other side of John. The seventeen-year-old stared at the other people blankly. His blond hair that was lighter than Dean's was growing shaggy. It wasn't exactly Sam-level long, but it wasn't short either. At least Sam looked decent with long hair, Adam needed to get his cut. "Next year, Adam," Dean called across to his brother.

The blond boy looked at his older brother before rolling his eyes and looking at the banners that hung from the gym's ceiling. Dean snorted; Adam was in his angst-filled stage it seemed. He was only a year and a few months younger than Sam, being born in August, just a few months after Sam turned one. He had one more year of high school hell to endure before he was allowed to leave. Dean pitied him—he knew how crappy Lawrence High was and figured that the siblings of the same boys who picked on Dean were now picking on Adam too. That or he was just being a stubborn little shit.

Dean looked over at Mary then, who was on the other side of Adam. He couldn't see too much of his mother's face, but he did see the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Mom, it hasn't even started yet," he pointed out.

Mary looked toward him before giving him a warm-hearted, teary-eyed smile. "I know… I just… I'm so happy for him. Valedictorian _and_ a full ride to Stanford! My sweet baby boy…" she trailed off, wiping at her eyes with a tissue.

Dean smiled a little—Sammy deserved this. Sam never got enough credit for anything he did, Dean knew that. He tried to make up for it and look after his little brother, but he had his own life to worry about, especially with college.

He jumped when the band began to play, their sound echoing throughout the large gym. Dean sat up a little straighter when the doors opened and waited to lay eyes on his little brother.

The commencement went off without a hitch. Sam received his Honors Diploma and gave his big speech about the future. He spoke about going off to college, about finding your path in life and playing your part. He spoke about destiny and fate, about angels and demons. It was the perfect speech that was downright movie-worthy. And Adam didn't believe a word of it.

He listened to his brother's speech, the entire time trying not to roll his eyes at the sappiness. His mother was too caught up with her own emotions to notice Adam's distaste. His father watched but bottled up his feelings inside. Dean's eyes were glued to Sam and he was smiling like a proud idiot. Adam was the only one who was not impressed by Sam's performance. When the ceremony was over, the Winchesters met up with Sam in the cafeteria after the ceremony. Adam watched with cold eyes as his older brother was received with hugs, kisses, and praise. Teachers, students, and school faculty came over and shook Sam's hand and congratulated him on his full ride.

Adam was shoved aside and completely forgotten.

He knew that this was Sam's day and he deserved it, but he couldn't help but be bitter.

Sam was the successful one.

Sam was the smart one.

Sam was the one who got a full ride.

Sam was going to Stanford.

Sam was going to be a lawyer.

And then there was Dean—another older brother that was off to do better, more important things than Adam ever would.

Dean was going to graduate from college.

Dean was going to get a degree in business.

Dean was going to become a businessman.

Dean was going to own his own company.

Dean was going to be rich.

What about Adam?

What was Adam going to do?

A few people stopped to talk to Adam after seeing Sam. They spoke to him about his future mostly, almost all who spoke to him asked the same questions. "What about you? You're graduating next year aren't you? Where are you gonna go to school? What do you want to do?"

The answer was always the same: "I don't know."

And it was always followed by: "Well, you should start thinking about it—you'll be a senior next year. You need to have a plan."

But all Adam heard was: "I figured as much. You could never fill your brothers' shoes. Sam and Dean are going on to such great things and you're just going to live in your parents' basement until they die and you can take the house, aren't you?"

That was the last thing Adam wanted, but he knew it was a frighteningly likely scenario. He had no idea what he wanted out of life, what he wanted to do, what he wanted to study, where he wanted to go to school—none of that was figured out. He didn't have answers because he had no idea what he wanted.

Adam didn't notice Dean had come up beside him until he felt his older brother's hand come down on his shoulder. He jumped a little, looking at Dean with mild irritation. "What?" he snapped.

Dean's eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed a little. "What's up with you lately?" he queried. Adam didn't miss the sharpness in his brother's voice.

"Nothing," he grumbled.

He sighed, his grip on Adam's shoulder tightening. "Now, I know that ain't true."

Adam rolled his eyes and jerked away. "Stop, Dean," he growled under his breath.

"Hey!" Dean said sternly, but Adam ignored him, walking off toward the restroom.

"I have to pee," he mumbled, ignoring Dean's sigh of exasperation.

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 **A/N:** lol I know this chapter ends on a strange note, but this is where i had to cut it off or else it would just further drag on with graduation stuff. The next chapter will be more exciting and will get on with the plot. :)


	3. The Prelude to Reality

_The Guardian - 3_

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I don't own Supernatural.

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 **The Prelude to Reality**

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Dean pelted through the trees. His breath came in rapid gasps and his legs were screaming in protest. But he couldn't stop. He had to keep going. The howls that came from behind him only pushed him faster. Blood roared in his ears as he hurtled over fallen tree limbs. Branches scratched at his face and tendrils snagged on his jeans, slowing him down. Panic began to set in as the howls grew closer. The hounds were gaining.

He didn't feel tired, the adrenaline coursing through his veins only pushing him faster. And yet, as fast as Dean ran, he couldn't distance himself from the blood-chilling howls. He didn't give up, though. All he could do was push himself faster and prolong the inevitable. _I'm not going down without a fight._

Dean burst from the shadowy forest into a large, open field. The clearing, to his surprise, was littered with scorched fallen trees, like a fire had taken place there. But the grass grew on and the surrounding trees looked untouched. He had little time to ponder this, the hounds still close behind him. Dean kept running across the field until something caught his ankle. He let out a shriek as he tumbled face-first to the ground. Panic flooded him. The hounds would catch him now, surely. He couldn't get away. Dean pushed himself up and looked to see what had caught his foot. He let out a scream when he saw what it was: a cross.

A cross with his name on it.

Like a burial marker.

 _Am… Am I dead?_

The howls turned into demonic growls as the hounds reached the clearing. Dean could see their shadows as they slunk toward him. He couldn't quite make out what they looked like, but he knew that they were there and they were approaching fast. He fingered the pocketknife he always kept on him in case he got mugged and prepared himself for his final battle.

There were three hounds in total. Three of them and one of him. He didn't stand a chance. He might be able to kill one, but not all three. Not with a pocketknife. Not on the ground. Dean grit his teeth and watched as the largest one approached, its lips curled back in a snarl. Saliva dripped from its jowls, and Dean swore it looked black instead of clear.

The hound crouched, preparing to lunge.

That was when the entire clearing was illuminated in white light.

Dean had to close his eyes it was so bright. Even closing them was not enough so he had to clamp both of his hands down over his face to shield himself. Even though the light was beyond blinding, Dean could not deny the feeling of relief that swept over him. Somehow, he knew that he was safe now. He knew that whatever this light was, it was here to protect him from those creatures.

He heard the hounds' high-pitched yelps and squeals of pain from the light. And then, it all stopped. The light disappeared and the clearing went completely silent.

Dean opened his eyes slowly and saw a man standing just a few feet in front of him. The man faced where the hounds had just been moments ago, and were now gone. He wore a long, tan trench coat with black trousers. Dean slowly pushed himself so he was sitting up and stared at the man—his mysterious savior. Without warning, the man turned to face him, and Dean was struck breathless by the sight. Two blue eyes stared into green, and in that moment, Dean felt like he'd become weightless. Every care in the world he had disappeared. All he could do was stare at this blue-eyed, raven-haired man. The stranger seemed just as surprised and taken aback by this encounter as Dean was.

That was when Dean saw them—the two, large, shadowy wings protruding from his back.

Dean woke with a start. He jolted upright in bed, gasping for air. His body was drenched in sweat and the T-shirt and boxers he wore were soaked and sticking to his body. His muscles ached as though he'd just gone twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. It was all he could to do get out of bed and stagger toward the bathroom.

The first thing he did was run a cold shower. He stripped off his sweaty clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed bags under his eyes from the rough sleep. His scruff was coming in which meant he'd have to shave in the next few days. As Dean studied his face, he couldn't help but remember the blue-eyed man in his dream. _The angel…_

Where had that dream come from?

He'd had nightmares before, but never like that. Never that vivid. Never being chased by hounds—and that was another thing; where had he gotten the word hound? Hound was such an ancient word. Why didn't he think they were dogs or wolves? Why did he immediately assume hounds? And who was the man? The mysterious blue-eyed angel that struck him breathless?

Dean stumbled into the shower and spent a good half hour standing under the cool spray, not even bothered when he begins to shiver a little. He tried to distract himself, but his mind kept going back to that pair of blue eyes and those dark, shadowy wings.

"Dean!" a voice came from outside the door. It was followed by a loud banging. "The hell you doin' takin' a shower at three in the morning?!" the Southern accent of his roommate, Benny Lafitte, blared through the door. "The rattlin' pipes woke me up!"

With a sigh, Dean turned off the water. He got out, his muscles still aching from his rough sleep. Wrapping his waist in a towel, he opened the door to see an irritated Benny. The man's short brown hair was mussed and standing almost straight up from sleep. "Sorry, Ben," Dean muttered tiredly. He rubbed his still dripping face as he tried to string together coherent sentences. "I had a bad dream and just needed to take a shower to clear my head." _Although it didn't really work._

Benny's look softened a little. "I get it, pal. I was just havin' a hell of a good dream with some hot blond chick—I was really pissed you woke me up from that."

Dean forced a grin. Benny had been his roommate his freshman year of college. When the two boys met, they immediately hit it off and had been roommates ever since. Even though they had both moved off campus now and were in an apartment, they shared the rent and both worked to pay the bills.  
"Sorry," Dean said again. "You can go back to sleep now; I'm done for the most part."

His friend nodded. "I'd give you a pat on the back or somethin' but you're drippin' wet, bud." He let out a muffled laugh before turning and retreating back to his room.

When Benny was gone, Dean sighed. He quickly toweled off and went back to his bedroom. Pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, Dean laid down on the bed and pushed the blankets off to the side. He stared at the ceiling, his mind somewhere else. It had been almost a month since Sammy's graduation, and about two weeks since his own. He was a real man now with a degree and everything. He didn't need to be tormented by stupid nightmares like this. _It's just one fucked up dream_ , Dean thought to himself. _It won't happen ever again. Don't let it get to you_.

He forced himself to close his eyes, but in the darkness, all he could imagine were those blue eyes.

"Adam."

He heard the voice before he saw who it belonged to. The voice alone made Adam shudder—he just knew it was something dark, something twisted, something that was not human. Moments later, a pair of yellow eyes opened in the shadows. Adam stared, his breath now coming in rapid gasps as fear clutched at his heart.

"Go away!" he hissed, trying to back up. All around him was pure blackness, as though he were trapped in an endless void.

A chuckle came in response. "Why should I, Adam?" the voice queried. "I'm not a threat to you. I'm your friend."

He was breaking out in a sweat now. His legs were trembling. "I said _leave!_ I want nothing to do with you!"

"You haven't even heard me out yet," the voice replied petulantly. "Just listen to what I have to say? Please, I need your help, Adam."

"Stay away from me!"

This was a dream. It had to be a dream. Adam began to pinch himself. He pinched hard up and down both of his arms, but he wouldn't wake. Then, he began to dig his nails into his flesh, trying desperately to wake up. He clawed at his arms until he saw blood beading from the scratches. _Wake up, wake up! This is a dream. This is a dream. This is just a dream. Wake up, Adam. Wake up._

He couldn't explain the fear, or the sense of dread he felt in his very core. All he knew was that every instinct he had was telling him to stay away from those glowing yellow eyes.

"Adam! _Adam!_ "

A new voice.

Adam was shaken awake by a pair of strong hands. When his eyes opened and fully focused, he saw his father's face inches from his. John's green eyes quickly scanned over Adam before he pulled the boy into a hug. Adam hugged him back warily, and that's when he saw his mother and Sam standing in the doorway. Mary's hand was covering her mouth and there were tears going down her cheeks. Sam was in the threshold, staring at his brother in horror.

 _What are they so worried about?_ he wondered.

When John pulled away, Adam looked down at himself and saw that his arms were covered in scratches that were bleeding. He jumped at the sight and then began to shake. _Was… was it real?_

"What happened?" John demanded in a low, strained voice. "Adam, for the love of God, what happened?"

"I… I was having a nightmare," was all Adam could think to say. What else could he do? Tell his already terrified family that he saw a man with bright yellow eyes and was trying to wake up?

John got off the bed and looked at Mary. "Should… Should we call an ambulance or something?"

"NO!" Adam quickly shouted. He instinctively covered his arms only to wince at the contact. "It's not that bad… I don't need to go to the hospital, they'll think I'm suicidal or something and I'm not! It was just a nightmare, I promise."

For a moment, both of his parents looked hesitant. Then, Mary wiped her eyes. "It's fine, John… I'm going to go get something to… clean up the blood with."

John nodded and watched her go. That left Adam, John, and Sam left in the room. Adam gulped, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Sam, why don't you go back to bed, son?" John suggested.

"Adam," Sam said, ignoring his father's suggestion.

Adam looked up at his older brother, feeling more self-conscious than ever. _I guess I'm finally getting that attention now,_ he thought bitterly.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Adam didn't miss the way his brother's voice cracked, or the look of fear in his eyes.

He felt terrible for putting his family through this, and he hadn't even had any control over what he was doing. Adam forced himself to nod and looked at his bedsheets, willing away tears. He heard footsteps as Sam left the room, presumably going back to his own bed. More footsteps replaced his as Mary reentered, carrying a bowl of warm water and a washcloth.

"John," she said softly. "Please go check on Sam. I'm worried about him."  
Her husband nodded dutifully and left the room to do as she asked. When John had left, Mary got up and closed the bedroom door. Adam watched her, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. She then came over to him, setting the bowl on his bedside table. "Let me see those scratches," she murmured, trying to be soothing.

Slowly, Adam extended his arms so she could look at the wounds. He heard her breath hitch as she looked at the long, bloody scratches.

"Adam," she whispered. Her voice was quiet, but had a gravity to it. Whatever she was about to say was very serious. Adam looked at her expectantly. "Are you sure you did this to yourself?"

"In my dream I scratched myself to try to make myself wake up," he confessed bashfully.

"You were screaming," Mary informed him. "That's why we all came running in. When we came in, you weren't scratching yourself at all. Your arms were pinned at your sides."

That made Adam freeze. He looked up at her with wide eyes. "What? But then… how did? How did I get these?"

Mary didn't reply for a while. Instead, she worked on wiping away the blood with the damp washcloth. A minute later, she let out a low sigh. "They look almost like…" she trailed off. Just by the way she spoke, Adam knew that her mind was elsewhere, focusing on something else entirely.

"Mom." His voice squeaked when he spoke. He hated it. He sounded like he was a little boy again, afraid of the monster in his closet and begging his mommy for protection. "I saw something in my dream…"

She looked up at him, her lips pursing into a thin line. He could see she was dying to know what he was talking about, but she held it back. A part of her didn't really want to know—this was her son, after all; she didn't want to think about the bad things that could happen to him. "What did you see, Adam?"

"I… I heard a voice… and I saw eyes," he murmured. "But… they weren't normal eyes."

"What do you mean they weren't normal eyes?" she pressed, albeit softly.

"They were… They were yellow."

In the seventeen years that Adam knew his mother, he had never seen her react the way she did in that moment. She completely froze. Slowly, her head turned up to meet his. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"His eyes were yellow."

For a moment, Mary Winchester looked like she was going to be sick. The grip she had on Adam's wrist was painfully tight as she gripped it with white knuckles. It was beginning to hurt him.

"Mom," Adam whispered. "Mom, that… that hurts."

Immediately, she let go of his arm. Mary blinked a few times before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, honey… I just… I didn't expect you to say that."

"What's wrong?" Adam pressed. He knew just by the look on her face that something wasn't right. Her reaction, the look of fear—she knew what his dream meant. She had to.

Mary picked up the washcloth again and returned to washing his arms. "Don't… don't worry about it, angel," she soothed.

Even though Adam didn't believe her, he didn't push it. It took Mary just a few minutes to finish up cleaning his arms. When she was done, she kissed Adam's forehead. "Don't be worry about that dream," she murmured. "Try to get some more sleep, okay? The angels are watching over you, after all."

Her words perplexed him. When he was little and scared of a horror movie he'd watched, Mary would tuck him in and kiss his head. She would always tell him and his brother the same thing when they were scared. " _The angels are watching over you._ " In that moment, he wondered why he decided to say that now. Was it just to soothe him like she did before? Or was it something else?

"The angels are watching over you," Mary said again, giving him another kiss.

Adam forced himself to lay back down, but he knew he was not going to sleep again any time soon. Mary gave him small smile before getting up and walking toward the door. For a moment, her footsteps paused. Adam glanced up to see his mother standing a foot away from the door, staring at the wall near the closet. He watched her curiously, wondering what was going through her head. She was staring as though something was there… He remembered that his room used to be the nursery. Dean and Sam had both stayed in his room when they were children. Since Adam was the youngest, he got to stay in there while Sam and Dean were booted out to rooms of their own.

Mary's shoulders sagged as she let out a breath she'd been holding. Without another word, she exited the room, leaving Adam's bedroom door open.

* * *

 **A/N:** So yeah, Sammy isn't our special child that Azazel goes after this time. Nope, it's poor little Adam.


End file.
